


What's in a Name

by ambiguous_nights



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguous_nights/pseuds/ambiguous_nights
Summary: A brief collection of stories of how a few clones got their names.





	1. Etching

“Why do they call you Etching?”

“I was really good with armor paints. I was even better at carving little designs into helmets or other plates. There was something more permanent about an etching that paint could never achieve. But it’s a dangerous project. Cut to deep and the armor becomes weaker. Cut to shallow and it doesn’t turn out. But I had a natural affinity for it. When one of my squad-mates got their name, they’d come to me asking for it to be placed on their armor somewhere. It was always small and discrete, but it marked them as individuals before they had the paint of a battalion. It was really an accident that I was named Etching. Someone had been asking one of my squad-mates where they had gotten their etching done. I responded to the word, used to be referred to as the one who could do the etching. And it became my name not long after as the other clones found out. They loved my work, many of them offering extra rations or anything else they could get their hands on to ask me to etch for them. But delicate, artistic work is was frowned upon by the Kaminoans. I was punished for it. They made my hands shake. I couldn’t etch anymore. I couldn’t aim a blaster either, but that didn’t matter. So long as I couldn’t make something beautiful, they didn’t care about the consequences. They still called me Etching, despite the name meaning nothing to me now. They said it was probably for the best anyway. Soldiers didn’t have time for artwork.”


	2. Cabo

“Why do they call you Cabo?”

“It’s short for Macabre. You should have seen me as an initiate. I was the most pessimistic and wild trooper you would ever meet. I was certain I would die before I completed training. When I didn’t, I was giddy. I laughed at danger, even as my body shook with fear. I made stupid jokes at our inevitable demise. One of the more bookish troopers called me macabre. Few knew what it meant, but it was quickly adopted as my name. And I embraced it. I was always the first to volunteer for missions, the first to jump out the gunship, the first to try to draw fire away from the wounded. I would sprint at enemy lines, firing and screaming, some part of me hoping they would finally get in that one lucky shot. I was high on my own emotions, stuck in some place between living and dying. I couldn’t stop fighting, certain that if I did, I would collapse and finally die. I wanted death. I wanted life. I had neither. And Tac-tac, one of my brothers, noticed. He asked once if I wanted to rest in the bunks for a bit before the next mission. He offered to take my shift on guard, since I had signed up for far more than anyone else. And I laughed at him. I told him I would sleep when I was dead. I thought that was the end of it, but he started to keep tabs on me, noting when I missed meals and refused to sleep. And in the end, he told the medics. I was pissed, of course. I didn’t want to be pulled from the battle field. It took a while for me to forgive him. But I did. I hadn’t realized how far I had deteriorated until I tried to get better. It took me months just to talk to the healers. They helped me heal. Now I’m the one that laughs in the face of death because I am so alive. No one will take that from me. Tac-tac saved me. He gave me hope. He gave me a chance to live. And he’s there when I need him. He’s there when I’m ready to dive into a suicide mission, ready to finally bring it all to an end. It was Tac-tac who changed my name from Macabre to Cabo. He gave me a second chance at life. And I love him for it.”


	3. Shades

“Why do they call you Shades?”

“Because I got sunburnt when my helmet got destroyed.”

“That’s it?”

“I wasn’t a shiny anymore. I needed a name. Someone told me I needed to find some shade, or I would end up fried. I spent most of that mission diving from one shady spot to the next to stop the burning. It was enough to get my name. I didn’t get it in a battle with the droids. The sun got to me in the end. I’ve got scars from the burns still. Scars aren’t uncommon, but I wished so dearly that I had gotten them from droids, from battle, from something with a purpose. Something were it would have felt like I burned for a reason. I didn’t talk to anyone about it. Its not like I was traumatized or anything. The healers had to help the people that had been blown up or had nightmares about battles long past. I didn’t deserve their help. Not when there are others that need it more. I stopped taking my helmet off. I didn’t want the medics to see and try to ask what happened. I didn’t have to camaraderie of the clones with scars on their faces. They had earned theirs in battle. I had not. I didn’t deserve what they had to offer. I stayed away. I became paler. And I burnt again during an attack on one of the desert planets. It was worse than before. But it wasn’t a battle scar. The medics tried to talk to me. I didn’t want them to. I still don’t.”


	4. Yuko

“Why do they call you Yuko?” 

“Because it’s a girl’s name. Because I’m a girl and I wanted a name like one. I know I don’t look like one. The GAR won’t let me transition. They said it’s too expensive for clones and violates regulations. But I’m not the only sister in our army of brothers. There’s not many, but there are some. But we have to stay hidden. We have to call ourselves men because otherwise we’ll be decommissioned. When on leave, we take off running. We find dresses and make-up and use the voices we spent so many hours practicing whenever in the barracks. The brothers would give us tips from their own rather limited experience of woman. I remember the day I finally got my voice right. I had never felt better. It was like it was a little less horrible to be stuck in this body, like I finally had some control over it. But I had to keep it hidden. My brothers were terrified of what happen to me if anyone found out. They practically tripped over themselves, making sure I wouldn’t have to answer questions, so I wouldn’t have to use my old voice. They helped me find others like me, some natural born and some clones. It was a risk speaking to the natural born, but they sympathized. They also had more experience. They showed me where to buy the hormones I wanted and how to put on makeup properly. They showed me how to be safe about it. I was doing better after they helped. And then one of the admirals found out. Things went to hell pretty quickly from there. No more hormones. No more makeup. They made me cut my hair. I was sick for weeks after that, at some points it became so bad I was ready to jump out the nearest air-lock. I was forced to transfer battalions. I couldn’t talk to anyone in case they were spies for the GAR. And then I met Winter. She was a Jedi padawan, not much older than me, but she looked younger. She got hurt one mission and I was tasked with trying to give her medical treatment. And I found out she was like me. She was embarrassed. She didn’t want anyone to know about who she was born as, didn’t want them to see her as anything other than she was now. And I told her my story. She told me she would fight the entire leadership of the GAR if it would mean I would have the right to transition. And she tried. She helped me feel who I was inside my head, helped me separate it from my body so I wouldn’t feel so terrible all the time. And one day she was shot down in the middle of street by some assassin’s blaster. There was no evidence that the GAR leadership was responsible, but she had been expressing her concerns that they were becoming more angry and violent with each day. I had told her to let it go. I wasn’t worth it. She promised that I was. She made me believe that.”


End file.
